


TM 45

by roommate



Category: Infinite (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-17
Updated: 2014-01-17
Packaged: 2018-01-09 00:16:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1139183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roommate/pseuds/roommate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Myungsoo treats every moment in his life as a Pokemon battle — you win some, you lose some. You also meet someone who you just can't win over and that someone, much to Myungsoo's dismay, is Woohyun. (for infinitesanta 2013)</p>
            </blockquote>





	TM 45

i. Fight

"What the—"

Myungsoo grips his DS tight in his hands but makes no effort to wipe off the look of disbelief in his face. He watches as Pikachu sends out bolts of lightning, powering up Electivire in the process, watches as Electivire's speed goes up, as Electivire lands a solid Ice Punch on Venusaur, quickly taking out the latter. 

He sends out his Stunfisk and gulps hard.

Three years ago, when he had just started out, he probably wouldn't have minded being owned by a Pikachu, but he is _L. Kim_ , the best online battler Korea has to offer, his only defeat in an online match being the one against Sungyeol — in the 2011 summer video game championships — who had been battling even before he picked up Diamond and Pearl. He's come a long way and he knows the meta game inside-out, and the concept of a Pikachu being used against him in completely unacceptable.

He makes a mental note to build a team around Pikachu later on. He can beat Sungyeol with it, he's fairly certain.

"Man, I've never—" Sungyeol's voice breaks in all the right places, and Myungsoo doesn't look up from his DS, fingers drumming on the keys lightly. There's still a way to win, and it's not by getting distracted.

He chooses "Bulldoze" and takes a deep, deep breath.

Pikachu attacks with another Discharge and Electivire's speed now rests at +2. "Whoa, dude, he's not fucking around," comes Sungyeol's voice, now clearer than ever, and Myungsoo grips his DS tighter. It's another Ice Punch from Electivire, one Stunfisk manages to survive thanks to sleepless nights of defense and special defense training, with some help from a focus sash. Bulldoze kicks in, and Myungsoo watches as the ground shakes and cracks and the shock inflicts damage on the electric types.

He holds his breath as the damage cuts the life points by a quarter, half, the red bar becoming more of a sign of victory with every passing second.

"Did Stunfisk just—"

Myungsoo screams at the top of his lungs, expletives dripping from his lips as he raises his DS in the air. He doesn't notice the final click of the DS when the match ends, or the small voice coming from his DS' speakers, the chuckling, Sungyeol asking for details of how the match eventually panned out because his internet connection kicked him out even before Myungsoo could celebrate the win. Only minutes after does he notice the trade request from the same trainer who has battled him, the image of victory still burning at the back of his eyelids.

 

Myungsoo rarely ever posts videos of battles revealing his occasionally-mediocre performance and prediction skills, but this is an exception — he finds his hands frantically navigating through the recordings in his DS and sending it to himself for him to time the narration and explain the sneaky yet well-crafted strategy his opponent has employed. It's not entirely embarassing, contrary to Sungyeol's belief; it's thrilling.

He hasn't felt so challenged and fulfilled after winning a battle in so long.

"Can you tell your friend to shut up," comes Sungyeol's voice on Skype. The sound of Sungyeol tapping the keys of his DS furiously seeps through the speakers. Myungsoo turns down the volume a bit; keysmashing sounds always unnerve him. "Your DS keeps sounding off. It's annoying."

Myungsoo looks up briefly, examining the inscrutable look on Sungyeol's face, until a notification pops up on his DS' touch screen; another trade request, this time for a Squirtle. He sends over a Magikarp with perfect IVs in attack, defense, and speed in return. "You're just jealous."

Sungyeol's voice is much clearer now. "Why would I be?"

Myungsoo hears soft mumbling coming from the other end of the trade, and he quickly hits the Mute button before pushing through with the trade — a bold-natured Squirtle, creatively named _DEM CANONS!!!_ He giggles before sending off one last Pokemon, one named _heyty_ , then closes his DS once the trade goes through.

Sungyeol clears his throat. "Do you have a gig tonight?"

"Nah." He slips his DS in his drawer and reaches for his camera bag. Never mind that he's covering the webcam with his chest. "I'm covering something tonight. It's the launch of the new trading card game."

Sungyeol lets out a small sound of approval. "They _are_ paying you cash, right?"

Myungsoo laughs a little. "I told them I accept payment in cash and cards."

Sungyeol grumbles, glares at him through the webcam, then worries his lip. Years ago, Myungsoo would have read into this, would have taken it as Sungyeol actually displaying concern and the late night talks, battles, Skype conversations meaning more, but it's 2013 — he's doing gigs four times a week while waiting for the entertainment companies' scouting season to begin, covering events on the side until the whee hours of the morning. He knows better than to be won over by Sungyeol's sad eyes.

If he ever reconsiders, he only looks up briefly, then looks back down at his feet for fear of going back to square one.

"Need a lightsman?" Sungyeol asks, and Myungsoo simply waves him off, then pulls down the laptop's screen.

 

The event is in a rather unusual place; who even thinks of launching a Pokemon event in a Hello Kitty cafe? Myungsoo wades his way through the crowd, waves at the organizer — an old friend he met online — then clicks the shutter release on instinct — his camera is almost always turned on.

"I thought it was supposed to be an intimate event?"

Hoya laughs a little. "I wanted to keep it small, but Dongwoo sent out all these invites—"

"To battlers." Myungsoo spots a familiar face — Sungjong, _ljongrado_ on Youtube, a battler who has steadily climbed up the ranks and has secured himself a place in the top-tier group of trainers with this team of unassuming fairy-types. "That guy massacred Haydunn's team with his Slurpuff. He creeps me out."

"He's a sweetie." Hoya gestures at Sungjong, and a smile quickly surfaces on Sungjong's lips. He probably isn't half as daunting as the webcam and poor lighting usually make him seem, but something at the back of Myungsoo's mind harps about the peculiar curve of Sungjong's lips, or the crinkles in his eyes. "Have you two met?"

Sungjong's smile is bright. _Dazzling Gleam,_ Myungsoo notes. The strangest image of Sungjong with Sylveon's bows occurs to him. He tries hard not to burst into laughter.

"L. Kim, right? The biggest advocate of Magikarp in the online community?" Sungjong nods thoughtfully. "You kicked my ass with your Gyarados. I won't forget that battle, back in—"

"Spring VGCs 2011." Myungsoo's fingers dance on the body of his camera. "The quarter-final match. Your Magnezone was pretty amazing."

The light dims, and the spotlight shines on the stage, washing out the backdrop. The host soon steps on the platform, draws the microphone close to his lips, then begins to speak. Myungsoo takes this as his cue, bowing to Sungjong and Hoya to excuse himself, then makes his way through the crowd again, this time much closer to the stage. There's a familiar kind of warmth, like the one he had experienced during his last performance in school, singing a song his father used to share with him to a crowd of students whose minds are fixed only on passing their subjects.

He looks through the viewfinder and draws it closer to his face, his left hand steady, supporting the lens.

The host looks into the lens and Myungsoo freezes.

He knows this face; it's all too familair — the small, perpetually amused look in his eyes, the light curl at the corners of the lips, the high cheekbones, the curve of the neck. The small frame and the pronounced muscles. He knows for sure that he's had several battles with this person before and has lost most of them, knows that this person has disappeared from the face of the Earth for at least a year, and definitely not supposed to be in this Hello Kitty Cafe. His right index finger moves on its own accord, clicking, clicking, _clicking_ until the host blinks and Myungsoo focuses his lens on the host's hands.

The host turns his attention back to his cue cards, then the crowd.

_Shit,_ Myungsoo thinks. It's the 2012 VGCs overall champion, _Namwoo._

 

ii. Bag

Myungsoo started battling online in 2008. Pokemon Diamond and Pearl had just been released then, and it was the first time he'd beaten Sungyeol at anything, calling dibs on Diamond and openly laughing at Sungyeol for having to settle with Pearl, instead. "Yeah, because I'm too busy fussing over my studies and you don't have anything better to do," Sungyeol had said, and Myungsoo dismissed it even before he could come up with a sharp retort — if he'd be able to, at all.

Sungyeol had always been the overachiever, the smart one, the type of son you'd brag about in parties. Sungyeol had set his mind on pursuing a career in medicine while attempting to become a Pokemon master on the side; Myungsoo was an aspiring musician whose attempts at creating the Next Big Hit were nothing short of a Pokerap in the making.

Sungyeol disappeared from the face of the Earth as Myungsoo had known it in 2009. He found out through Sungyeol's mother three weeks after Sungyeol left because, "I think he just didn't know how to say goodbye." It was a pathetic excuse, Myungsoo thought, but there was nothing he could do about it — Sungyeol was miles away and didn't even have the decency to leave him a farewell note and he wasn't even online on Pearl.

It wasn't as if Sungyeol owed him anything, so he replied, "He didn't have to." He balled his fists, then turned to Sungyeol's mother with a sad smile. "We just had to see each other and I'd already know."

Myungsoo made it a point to be online everyday, on every single communications platform available, but none of Sungyeol. There was Sunggyu and Sungjong and Hoya and Dongwoo, but no Sungyeol. _Accepting battle requests,_ he typed in his Youtube channel profile, and hit the Save Changes button even before he could change his mind.

 

The first time Myungsoo saw Sungyeol since the sudden disappearance was before the 2011 Fall VGCs. The Bat Signal was, "I dropped out of med school"; the response was, "I'll meet you in _that ice cream shop_ in thirty minutes." Myungsoo arrived ten minutes earlier than expected and Sungyeol was already there, respectable in pristine white clothes from head to toe.

There was a stain flaunted on the left side collar of Sungyeol's shirt. "You've got shit on your suit," was the first thing Myungsoo had said, and Sungyeol just shook his head, stretched out his arms and replied with a small smile.

Myungsoo walked over to where Sungyeol was in a rush and enveloped him in a bone-crushing hug, something he belatedly regretted when Sungyeol had called him out on being too emotional, overeager, _the fakest tough cookie ever._

"You still like me, though," Myungsoo retorted.

"Yeah. Maybe even too much."

The smile on Sungyeol's lips quickly turned into a grin, and he laughed at Myungsoo silly for the next two minutes. Myungsoo sighed in relief; this was Sungyeol, alright.

In the three hours they spent in the ice cream parlor, Sungyeol told him about how tough life as a med student was, that he'd dropped out because med was making him sick both in the head and in the body, that maybe Pokemon was the only thing that kept him sane through all those sleepless nights, that he might have had half the mind to make drunken calls to Myungsoo at the height of his stress as an aspiring medical practitioner.

"Why didn't you?"

"Didn't think you'd pick up." A droplet of ice cream was slipping from the corner of Sungyeol's lips; Myungsoo wanted to reach for a tissue to wipe it off, but clasped his hands together instead. "And I knew you were busy. Didn't want to keep you from your 'muse'."

"It would've been better if you didn't use air quotes." Myungsoo was reckless now; he wiped off the stain with his thumb.

"That's as good as it gets, I'm afraid."

Myungsoo rubbed his thumb on the midsection of Sungyeol's forehead. "I figured."

They spent another hour devising a plan of action for Sungyeol, ten minutes figuring out where to eat next, and five minutes trying to one-up each other by doing a Pokemon battle without their consoles, using only their imagination. Sungyeol won thanks to entry hazards and the poison status on Myungsoo's last Pokemon standing. It wasn't out of luck; Sungyeol deserved to win.

Myungsoo snaked an arm around Sungyeol to pull him closer to the sidewalk, away from danger and closer to him. Sungyeol made no effort to retaliate.

 

2012 was one of the toughest years of Myungsoo's life. He'd skipped he VGCs the whole year, had bailed out of every family reunion to dedicate his time to his craft and his studies. Their graduation requirement was to create an album of not less than ten songs, all of which self-composed.

"You can't write songs for shit," Sunggyu said, a sad smile pulling down the corner of his lips. Sunggyu had been through this the year before, somehow finished the program unscathed, and had previously assured Myungsoo that he'd do just fine, but Myungsoo was Myungsoo and he hated feeling complacent, like he was bound to miss something of great importance if he closed his eyes longer than the usual. A streak of panic flashed across his features as soon as Myungsoo furrowed his eyebrows. "I mean, if you were to write songs, they'd be good but you've never been good with words and—"

Myungsoo waved him off, replying, "You don't have to play nice, hyung." Then, after a while. "Battle? I'll kick your sorry ass."

Myungsoo was, technically, out of practice, but it wasn't an excuse for his poor performance. His predictions were off and he made a few basic errors, but he won — only by a hairline. Sunggyu's Charizard missed the Fire Blast and Myungsoo's Heracross luckily landed a critical hit with Stone Edge.

"Lucky," he'd said after Sunggyu congratulated him. "I'd be lucky if I get to graduate this year. I... Can you help?"

"I... can't help right now." Sunggyu frowned, apologetic. "I'm pretty swamped with gigs. But I know someone who can?"

Myungsoo looked up, a small smile on his lips. There was a hint of hesitation in Sunggyu's eyes, but then Sunggyu was born with a worried look. "Well, probably. I think he's in the same year as you are. He disappeared for a year." Sunggyu laughed gingerly. "He was supposed to be my thesis partner but—"

"But?"

"Clashing music styles." Sunggyu's eyes had drawn into slits and Myungsoo couldn't read him as quickly anymore. "I think you'll get along just fine, though."

Three days and much fussing after, Sunggyu introduced Myungsoo to Nam Woohyun.

He wasn't that bad; just not entirely good, either. Woohyun was a musician — he made music references every chance he got, and would almost always sing his responses, humming to fill the white noise. He had a plethora of singing awards under his belt, and one for music composition — most creative interpretation of a theme, and said theme was 'the fighter'.

"What they didn't know," Woohyun said in between laughter, "was that I was writing about the epic battle with Red at Mt. Silver." Woohyun's face was now a rich shade of red and there were beads of tears at the corner of his eyes and, " _There's no running away now, I have to face my fears. I sing my heart out to wake up the beast that lies within—_ That's for you, Snorlax!"

Myungsoo took a deep breath. "You play Pokemon?"

Sunggyu smiled a little. Beside him, Woohyun grinned. "It's my life."

Myungsoo stared — more like _gaped_ , really, because he rarely ever met people who were interested in Pokemon, save for those who he had battled with online. Being a fan of the franchise wasn't exactly something people usually take pride in. Pokemon was often viewed as a childish game, something for kids, but Myungsoo knew better.

Pokemon was a story about finding oneself, nourishing the strength within, and meeting people who would later be great allies in thwarting the forces of evil. That, and earning money by beating the crap out of pathetic trainers.

"Are you okay?" Sunggyu asked. _No,_ Myungsoo wanted to reply. _No, because I've been hit with Hypnosis and he's draining the fuck out of me with Dream Eater and I have to hang onto my Focus Sash to keep myself in check and—"_

"How about you?"

Myungsoo blinked twice. _Stop using Pokemon metaphors,_ said a voice in his mind, like a mantra or a prayer that might save him from drowning. He took a deep breath and smiled, but only a little, carefully parting his lips to reply, "I'm a Pokemon master."

The first few days were spent getting to know each other, memorizing each other's music and battling styles. By the following week, Myungsoo already knew that Woohyun could hardly function properly without the promise of a quick battle at the end of the day. "It's the only way to de-stress," Woohyun had explained, face buried in his hands. Myungsoo could only watch as Woohyun's arms gave away, collapsing on the table as Woohyun's face landed flat on the surface.

"We can do a quick one."

"You make it sound like we're having a quickie."

Nervous laughter escaped Myungsoo's lips abruptly. "Uh. Okay."

"Kidding. C'mon, let's make this quick."

Ten minutes after, they were still playing, tapping furiously at the buttons and yelling Pokemon moves at each other, the promise of another battle ringing brightly in Myungsoo's ears.

 

A month into knowing each other, Woohyun had somehow convinced Myungsoo that plastering a video of their faces and outtakes of their battles on Youtube was a good idea. It wasn't such a bad endeavor — Myungsoo had gained a good amount of subscribers the first hour the video went live, but he wasn't so comfortable about seeing his face on the internet.

"You narrate your battle videos but don't like to put a face to that voice?" Woohyun scrunched his nose and rolled over, lying flat on his stomach. He'd crumpled some papers along the way, but Myungsoo wasn't worried; those were readings, not music sheets. Music sheets were never taken to bed — that was the rule.

"Unlike you, some people want to remain mysterious online."

"Meh." Woohyun rolled his eyes. "You have a picture of yourself in your profile and you do audio recordings; do you really think you're still mysterious?"

Myungsoo chuckled. Even Sunggyu couldn't argue with him on that; Myungsoo had repeatedly pointed out that moving pictures were different from a still, and that the world was better off not seeing his weird facial expressions.

"I'd love to think I am." Myungsoo turned to Woohyun with a small smile. "But hey, a hundred new subscribers. I think they actually like my face."

"Your face is likeable," Woohyun commented. There was a peculiar smile on the curve of the lip and maybe Woohyun was staring at his lips; if he had his glasses on, he wouldn't have to keep guessing. Lock on. "Very likeable."

"Looks like it. I just got another subscriber."

The thing about Woohyun, Myungsoo stressed, was that he was too touchy even if the situation didn't call for touches and back hugs and an arm around the shoulder. Myungsoo didn't mind the warmth — he didn't get cold easily, but he wasn't accustomed to having something warm draped on his body half the time. In video recordings, Myungsoo would make a conscious effort to maintain a safe distance from Woohyun, but Woohyun would always weasel his way to him, their thighs pressed together, sticky from contact.

"Hey, come closer. You're outside the frame."

"I'm fine here in the corner, thank you very much."

"It's not as if I'll look at your DS while we battle. _Come on—_ "

"I said I'm fine—"

It wasn't that Myungsoo wasn't receptive to touch — he loved hugs in particular — but anything in excess was bad. Woohyun grabbed him by the wrist and he'd somehow ended up getting dragged right next to Woohyun, his DS safe in his hands, his head rested on Woohyun's lap. He could feel his DS slipping from his hands, his fingers now cold, becoming numb. It felt a lot like defeat.

"You comfy there?" Woohyun asked, and Myungsoo just snorted. The last turn of a Sunny Day-boosted Solar Beam. Woohyun winning streak was over.

He got up as soon as he claimed victory over Woohyun, stopped the recording, and went to the kitchen to grab something to eat.

(Myungsoo pressed his palms flat on the counter and closed his eyes, counting to ten. It had been easier to ignore and deny before, but if his heart would keep racing in his chest everytime Woohyun's touch lingered or Woohyun stared at his lips, his efforts would be futile. So he whispered, careful not to let Woohyun hear, "I hate him, I hate him, I _hate_ him," until it was much easier to believe.

"Hey, get your sorry ass here! We need to write!" came Woohyun's voice from the room. Myungsoo took a deep breath.

He needed to write something, and fast.)

 

So maybe they'd gotten a bit too drunk one time, a bit too reckless. It was Friday and it was vice night and Woohyun thought it would be a great idea to steal one bottle of Bombay Sapphire from the shelf for themselves and lock themselves in a room. Myungsoo thought it was crazy but indulged, anyway, and the next thing he knew he was sprawled on the bed, lying flat on his back with Woohyun straddling him.

"I'm not ready to battle," Myungsoo mumbled.

Woohyun laughed and pinched him in his side. "You have a Blastoise that will knock out my Steelix. You're going to win, no questions asked."

Even before Myungsoo could come up with a retort, Woohyun leaned in and pressed their lips together. The kiss was slow, languid, easy and maybe even lazy until Woohyun licked Myungsoo's upper lip, asking for access. Myungsoo gripped the sheets tight. The image of the Escape button was bright beneath his eyelids but he parted his lips, anyway, letting Woohyun in, catching the bitter tang on the tip of Woohyun's tongue.

 

Myungsoo hadn't expected Woohyun to be incredibly helpful in composing songs, but Woohyun always seemed to have a melody under his breath and lyrics at the tip of his tongue. On his bad days, Woohyun would be lounging on Myungsoo's couch, music sheets placed neatly, albeit in a pile, on the table nearby; on his better days, they'd be kissing until Myungsoo couldn't keep the words at bay anymore and his hands were itching to write something down that sounded a lot like Woohyun (or would sound good in Woohyun's voice, in Woohyun's distinct tone).

On their best days, they'd be lying flat on their stomachs, two feet from each other, yelling profanities as they tapped the buttons of their DSes madly. Myungsoo would sit up and thrust a fist up in the air with every victory, and Woohyun would rest his hands on Myungsoo's shoulders, slowly guiding him down on the bed as he trailed kisses along the expanse of flesh lining Myungsoo's neck. Woohyun would be thankful for Myungsoo's affinity to threadbare clothing and Woohyun would say, "It's so convenient to be in a tank top," and Myungsoo would let Woohyun slide his hands up his shirt, removing the article of clothing, and plant a soft kiss on his lips.

He would let Woohyun suck him off as he tried to run lyrics in his mind so he wouldn't forget, would let Woohyun finger him until all he could say was Woohyun's name. After the frenzy, Woohyun would nuzzle against him, face to chest, and hum under his breath.

Woohyun would get up early the morning after and make breakfast — nothing fancy; anything edible that can be made from Myungsoo's meager stash of food — and Myungsoo would catch him scribbling lyrics on scratch paper because he knew that Myungsoo's notebooks were sacred and must not be touched.

"I'll make coffee," Myungsoo would say, and Woohyun would nod and save his advances for later, after lunch, once they've already had enough coffee and time to write. Rinse and repeat until the day had already ended. A nice, soothing backing track for everyday living.

 

_can't drop by 2day,_ Woohyun said over text one time. _sry just hv 2 concentrate and finish mastering d title track i'll make it up 2 u babe_

Myungsoo glossed over the message and typed a short yet teasing reply, saying, _oh so you're saying i'm a distraction? ok got it kekeke._ He was expecting a plethora of smileys from Woohyun or possibly even a simple, straightforward _oh fuck u_ , to which he was prepared to reply, _but you're there and i'm here_ , but none of those. He counted to ten — ten was a good number, ten was the number of seconds it normally took for Woohyun to react to things — but his screen didn't light up. So he counted another ten, and another, and another.

Ten minutes had already passed and Woohyun still hadn't replied. Myungsoo diverted his attention to the album he was developing, convinced that burrying oneself in work was the best way to recalibrate himself until a particular song came up — the hidden track, a duet between him and Woohyun. 

He went to the previous track and added some beats a second layer of vocals, this time lower, and nodded thoughtfully as he finished remastering the track.

He skipped the duet track and started working on the last track. It was a song about triumph and glory, about conquering the world.

It was a song about the greatest match he had ever had the chance of being part of, one he fought alongside Woohyun.

 

_hey woo?_  
mm  
we're good right? 

 

A week since the last time they wrote songs together and Myungsoo was worrying about Woohyun's album more than anything else. Myungsoo's was nearing completion — only the cover art was missing, and he was still debating with Dongwoo about the logic behind making use of an image of a broken heart when the album was, in fact, about powering through life and facing challenges head-on — and Woohyun's progress on the album was a perfectly reflection of the state of his mind.

_asked on skype and he said he was already done_ , Hoya offered when Myungsoo finally decided to seek the help of a friend.

_that's good_ , was Myungsoo's curt reply. At the back of his mind, a response was waiting to be thrown out in the air — _then what's keeping him from coming back?_

"I can explain," was Sunggyu's opening statement when he asked Myungsoo to grab a cup of coffee and catch up. His face was void of the usual bright smile and eyes; he looked tired. "I never explained how Woohyun and I drifted apart, did I?"

"You looked as if you didn't want to talk about it." Myungsoo drummed his fingers on the table. Appetizer was being served, but he felt like skipping to the main course.

Sunggyu looked up at Myungsoo, lips parted, no sound slipping from them. He closed his mouth, opened it again, but this time with more resolution and the promise of an actual explanation in the way his jaw hung open, poised for a speech.

"We had something in the past, Woohyun and I." Sunggyu took a bunch of the sauteed bean sprouts; Woohyun liked those. "We weren't just thesis partners. We were... more."

"Lovers."

"Hardly. We never even made music together. At best, we were—"

"Fuck buddies," Myungsoo finished, voice dropping to a whisper.

Sunggyu laid the chopsticks flat on the plate and looked up, meeting Myungsoo's eyes for the first time. "I'm sorry, I... wasn't able to warn you."

Myungsoo took a deep breath, then reached for the plate of kimchi opposite him. Thoughts of Woohyun flashed in his mind, right before his eyes — Woohyun staying the night in Myungsoo's flat, spending midnights writing songs that could pass as anime themes on the scratch papers lying around Myungsoo's house, Woohyun always cooking breakfast and leaving sticky notes next to the pot of coffee, lyrics written on the tiny sheet of paper.

The first time they actually did it was halfway through the term, after Woohyun finished writing the ninth track on the album. "A new way of celebrating," Myungsoo remembered Woohyun saying, and mindlessly followed, still high from the midterm rush and having the first five tracks of his albums approved by his thesis adviser.

"We made music. We wrote a lot of songs together. I don't understand—"

He had to stuff a piece of kimchi in his mouth to keep himself from saying more.

"He withdraws from the world when he feels himself getting too attached. He hates being vulnerable." Sunggyu took a piece of tofu and poked it several times before eating it. "Notice that he's always the one making the first move, but he's also the first to pull away."

"Not when he's with me, he isn't." Myungsoo chuckled. "I guess between the two of us, I was more allergic to attachments."

"I'm allergic to Woohyun," Sunggyu commented. The smile that was on his lips had subsided. "But I thought he'd do your music career well, so&dmash"

"Hey, hyung." Myungsoo clasped a hand on Sunggyu's and tried his best to smile, but then smiling had never been a talent of his. "It's not your fault."

Sunggyu let out a dissatisfied exhale, then turned to Myungsoo, squeezing his hand in the process. "Welcome to the club, then?" he said, laughing a little as he ended.

"Welcome to the club, indeed."

 

iii. Pokemon

"Leaving so early?"

Myungsoo looks up to meet Hoya's eyes and supply a short explanation, all while placing his camera in his bag. "I'm done for the night," he replies, then cocks his head in the direction of the busy gamers. "Can't compete with these kids. I'm too old to stay up late. Besides, I have another event tomorrow morning so—"

"I won't let you run away from this."

Myungsoo zip up his bag and heaves a sigh. "You know about this?"

"Duh." Hoya snatches his bag and heads backstage, then reemerges with empty hands and a raised eyebrow. "So, how many pictures of him did you take—"

Myungsoo cackles, laughs, letting out all the air in his chest. It's the first time he's laughed since seeing Woohyun's face for the first time in a a year. Woohyun is still Woohyun — there's still the peculiar curl of the lip when he smiles and the clean crinkles in the corner of his eyes when he squints. His hands are still donned with stress, veins prominent on the surface. And he sounds the same. Or maybe Myungsoo's just tricking himself into thinking that nothing has changed.

Shivers run down his spine when he catches Woohyun looking at him from three tables away. Woohyun is winning, one damage counter away from claiming victory, five meters from where Myungsoo is. Another flash of shivers, a line of fear shooting through his veins. Acrophobia haunting him at the age of twenty one.

"Just enough," he replies. There's a hint of an apology in Hoya's eyes. "Hey, I'm a professional. I don't mix work with other shit."

Hoya cackles, eyes bright at the seams. "Yeah, but you mix school with— Okay, not going there."

He's known Hoya for close to three years now. He remembers meeting Hoya in the Smogon forums, sharing his unabashed love for Abomasnow and the automatic hailstorm weather that goes on forever. Hoya was there when Sungyeol wasn't, when Sunggyu was much too busy with graduation requirements and participating, when Woohyun had disappeared without notice.

"You already did."

Hoya shrugs. "Eh. Couldn't help it." A mild squint of the eyes, and then, "He's coming."

Myungsoo flinches when a warm hand rests on his shoulder, anyway. Hoya's greeting blares in Myungsoo's ears, loud enough to drown out the unintelligible noises he makes. "Thanks for agreeing to host on such short notice," Hoya says, smile bright and unwavering.

Myungsoo turns around slowly and wears his best smile, but Woohyun's smile rivals his. It makes him choke on his own spit, makes his chest constrict and words get lodged at his throat and he can only manage to gape in response to Woohyun's warm greeting.

He's never been good at hellos.

"Didn't expect to see you here," Woohyun says. He squeezes Myungsoo's arm lightly.

"I wish I didn't have to," Myungsoo quickly says, sharp and laden with regret, especially when Woohyun briefly furrows his eyebrows in retaliation.

Hoya excuses himself and briefly squeezes Myungsoo's arm before leaving.

Myungsoo stares at the distance between him and Woohyun — just a few inches; it could have been much shorter a year back — at Woohyun's hands, veins pronounced on the surface, at Woohyun's face that's lit up by a smile.

"I knew you'd say that."

Myungsoo scoffs. "Then go now. Or should I be the first to leave this time since you—"

Woohyun grabs him by the wrist and pulls him closer. He can feel his pulse quickening, can feel the cold of Woohyun's fingers prick his skin, sending shivers down his spine. "I can explain. I'll take you home," Woohyun whispers in his ear, so soft that Myungsoo hardly catches any of it, but Woohyun is Woohyun and Myungsoo still has his voice memorized at the back of his mind.

"I prefer taking the long route. And walking."

Woohyun beams. "Awesome. I love walking, too."

Myungsoo hauls his bag over his shoulder and walks ahead, doesn't look over his shoulder to check if Woohyun follows because he knows Woohyun will, and the only time Woohyun hasn't kept his promise was when he said, via text, _i'll make it up 2 u babe_.

Myungsoo sneaks a glance when he walks past the door, down the stairs, when he attempts to walk away. Woohyun's smile glimmers.

 

"I was scared, that's why I left," Woohyun says out of the blue, ten minutes into the walk. "I wanted to be an idol and I knew I couldn't risk breaking the norm if I was going to pursue that path. So I left."

_That's not the issue,_ Myungsoo wants to say, but instead he hums, unsympathetic, monotonous and barely above a whisper. He stares at his feet, then at Woohyun's own. Their steps fall into sync after a while. They pass the playground nearby and Myungsoo thinks, he could probably pull the same trick and leave without warning. He's not tired enough for a confrontation like this.

"No texts, no calls, no messages — nothing. You could have died and we wouldn't have known."

Woohyun scoffs. "If I died, the whole world would know. I'm pretty famous. Remember, I'm the reason why you're famous on Youtube, not your apparent lack of skill."

"I'm still one VGC title better than you," Myungsoo retorts. He tries to fight the smile creeping to his lips but it's dark, anyway, so he lets it slip until they pass a streetlamp and Woohyun looks his way.

"I still have more subscribers on Youtube." Laughter, then, "Suck it."

Woohyun's idea of _explaining everything_ is five minutes' worth of word vomit and nervous laughter and giggling in between Myungsoo's snide remarks. The concept of forgiveness still eludes Myungsoo, so the best he can offer is a small smile when they reach the train station. If Myungsoo remembers corrently, Woohyun's supposed to be heading west, but Woohyun hops on the same train as he does.

The airconditioning is set too low and there's too much space. Myungsoo sits a few good feet from Woohyun and texts Sungyeol, _skype in 10 mins pls_.

"I've been looking for you, you know," Woohyun says after a while. "Been tracking you down for months but you hardly ever update your Facebook account and you don't tweet and—"

"Youtube. You could have messaged me on Youtube." Myungsoo's phone buzzes — it's a reply from Sungyeol saying, _y not now my body is ready_. He slips the phone back in his pocket. "You know that's the best way to reach me."

Woohyun scrunches his nose and Myungsoo quickly regrets sneaking a glance. "I wanted to record a video, actually. We never got to post the collaboration video of our duet—"

"The album got an A, by the way." Myungsoo hangs his head low, hoping this hair would cast harsh shadows on his face, but lighting in the subway has never been flattering. Woohyun slowly inches closer and Myungsoo contemplates on modulating his voice, but the warmth Woohyun can provide might make the temperature bearable. "I still haven't thanked you for that so—"

"You're welcome," Woohyun says, voice barely above a whisper. "And I got an A for my album, too. We're even."

Seven stops, six inches, twelve long months between them. Myungsoo can feel the distance weighing down on him like a loss or the look of dissatisfaction on his mother's face or him forgetting to pay for the internet bill and consequently suffering the consequences. He thinks of the past year, how living without Woohyun has molded him into _this_ — Kim Myungsoo, musician and artist, doing gigs at nine in the evening; earning free trading cards and, occasionally, money from event coverages; stronger, wiser, and much more guarded — and takes a deep breath.

Woohyun rests his head on Myungsoo's shoulder and Myungsoo tries not to shiver.

"One battle, just one battle," Woohyun says after a while. "If I win, you'll give me another chance. If I lose, I won't bother you anymore."

They're on the sixth stop and Myungsoo wants to jump off right now, like falling flat on the pavement will make things easier, but his lips betray him when he spills, "Fair enough. Standard OU?" There's a familiar glint in Woohyun's eyes and Woohyun's smiling ear-to-ear and Woohyun's holding his breath. Myungsoo wonders if Woohyun's cheek bones cut living things.

"You know the drill."

The seventh stop. Myungsoo gets up first, and Woohyun follows.

They're silent until they reach Myungsoo's doorstep, and Myungsoo quickly bows and excuses himself, but doesn't forget to thank Woohyun. "For whatever it's worth," he rushes when Woohyun's lips curl up. "Now go, it's getting late."

"No, Myungsoo. Thank _you._ "

Myungsoo closes the door behind him and leans back on the door. He can hear the sound of Woohyun's footsteps fading into the distance. He crouches, pulling his knees close to his chest, and he can feel himself shivering, shaking, fingers cold and breathing ragged. Vulnerable.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. The image of Woohyun's smile is still there.

 

Only the following day, over breakfast and while having a quick chat with Sungyeol on Skype, does Myungsoo realize that they never got to exchange friend codes.

"He'll find a way to get yours if he really wants that second chance," Sungyeol says through a mouthful of cereal. "Besides, your FC's posted all over the internet. Only a stupid person won't be able to track you down."

"He's stupid." A look of excitement quickly surfaces on Myungsoo's lips when he sees the egg hatching, but it disappears behind the coffee mug and after Myunsgoo sees that he didn't get the Pokemon nature he wanted. "And the Pokemon AI is stupid. Why do I keep playing this game?"

Sungyeol shrugs. "Because you're waiting for Prince Charming Nam Woohyun to add you and send a battle request your way?"

"Too early to be having this conversation with you." Myungsoo saves his game and chugs whatever is left of his coffee, then wipes his lips with the back of his hand. "Catch you later. I have an event to go to."

"The gig's still a go, right? I'll be there."

Myungsoo smiles. "Yup. Bring pompoms and cheer for me. Thanks."

Sungyeol's laughter blares through the speakers, seeping through Myungsoo's skin and leaving a prickling sensation in his fingertips. He stares longer than intended, and just shakes his head when Sungyeol sinks in his chair and accidentally topples over his bowl of cereal.

He turns off the router and closes his laptop, then slips it in his drawer.

There are more pressing matters to attend to.

 

More pressing matters mean Myungsoo covering a small preschool awarding ceremony, one Dongwoo has specifically requested him to attend. "You're the only one I trust when it comes to these things," he remembers Dongwoo saying, and while he tries to not make it apparent, he loves being surrounded by kids. Their shrill and youthful laughter breathes life into his daily routine.

"Why aren't you in costume?" Dongwoo says when Myungsoo arrives at his office's doorstep. "I texted you last night; I told you to come in those cute red shorts—"

"Anything but those, please." Hoya's hand is warm on Myungsoo's shoulders, and Myungsoo mouths a _thank you_. "And I'm here because this guy can't organize things for shit."

"Language," Dongwoo mumbles, glowering briefly until one of the parents arrives, her son in tow. "And that's my cue. Soo, ten minutes?"

"Ten is good." Myungsoo turns the knob a few times until he gets his desired exposure. "Unless we're all good and we're not waiting for—"

"I'm here, I'm here!" comes a familiar voice from behind. "Bad hair day, sorry. And I spent way too long looking for a costume—"

Woohyun looks... terrible. He's wearing a plaid polo, denim shorts and suspenders, and boat shoes. He even has one of those atrocious colorful hats. Myungsoo briefly contemplates, wondering what went through Hoya's mind when he agreed to have Woohyun as the events agency's partner host. Woohyun is terrible in all aspects of life.

"You're here." Myungsoo clutches his camera close to his chest and taps the shutter release lightly. "Are you stalking me?"

Woohyun doesn't answer but, instead, walks over to where Dongwoo is, asking to be briefed on the flow of the program. Myungsoo can feel his hands shaking, can feel his heart racing in his chest, and the first thing he worries about is not being able to take stable pictures. That's not what he's being paid for.

"And yes, I'm stalking you," Woohyun whispers when he slips behind him, breath hot on the shell of his ear. Myungsoo holds his breath until Woohyun's a good three feet from him, until he feels his hands again and all he can think about is getting his shots right.

 

To say that Woohyun is good with kids is an understatement; kids _love_ Woohyun. They all have this wide-eyed look and a big grin on their lips when Woohyun calls them in a voice Myungsoo can only describe as sickeningly sweet. After the program, one of the kids walks back to the stage and hugs Woohyun's right leg while saying, "I like him. Umma, can we take him home?" and Woohyun just laughs and bends down to ruffle the girl's hair.

He plants a soft kiss on the girl's forehead and peeks at Myungsoo through his bangs. Myungsoo clicks and clicks and clicks until Woohyun averts his gaze.

The last of the families finally leaves, and Dongwoo slumps in one of the chairs, letting out a relieved sigh. "I'm so done with kids. Heck, I hate kids. Why do I work here again?"

"Because you're a kid," Hoya supplies. He sits down on the chair nearest to Dongwoo and gives Dongwoo's thigh a light squeeze. "Great event, though. Good job."

"You just _had_ to ruin it my patting yourself on the back, didn't you?" Dongwoo's smiling now, too much gums and teeth. Hoya's cackling. Woohyun's laughing even if he isn't part of the conversation. Myungsoo feels compelled to laugh, as well.

They eat at a samgyupsal place nearby. It's Woohyun's favorite place, and even before Dongwoo can offer to pay for whatever they'll be eating, Hoya quickly says, "You, old man, deserve this treat. I'm paying."

Dongwoo is quick to raise his hand and ask for three bottles of soju. _Too early to get drunk,_ Myungsoo wants to say, but Dongwoo's laughing and his eyes are turning into crescents and it's the first time in a while that he's seen his friend like this, void of any trace of fatigue. So he raises his hand and says, "Make that four," just smiles when Hoya gives him an incredulous look.

Woohyun looks at him, stares, and somehow Myungsoo feels the world closing in on him until he sees nothing and nobody else but Woohyun. Dongwoo's cackling is reduced to faint ambient noise and Myungsoo wants to scream, wants to escape, but Woohyun has him trapped. Woohyun's not even touching him.

Woohyun eyes soften and Myungsoo feels a violent breath of life coursing through him, filling his lungs, bringing Dongwoo and Hoya's voices back to normal volume. He clenches and unclenches his fists, and grabs a bottle of soju as soon as one gets served.

He lets the cold seep through his skin. He's back. He's back. Woohyun's back in his life.

 

He's a bit too buzzed to be heading back to his flat alone, so Woohyun offers to accompany him. He struggles at first, but after tripping on his own foot for the third time on their way to the main road, Myungsoo finally yields. He still maintains a safe distance from Woohyun, but lets Woohyun text his contact in the bar he'll be having a gig in in his behalf, saying, "i'll be late, 30 mins max. sorry i'll make it up to you."

He's spent the past five minutes in the bathroom and Woohyun's reflection is still of the same image — Woohyun's eyes trained on him. Myungsoo splashes more cold water on his face. "Drinking in the afternoon is a bad idea," he mumbles. _You're a bad idea_ is lodged somewhere in his throat.

"Maybe you should beg off tonight? You can't go there drunk."

"Not drunk. Just buzzed." Myungsoo's left the bathroom now, turning around to make his way to his bed. "And I can't. People are expecting me. Can't let them—" Myungsoo feels around for his glasses, but to no avail; he must have stuffed the pair in his bag in a hurry. He grumbles for a while, until Woohyun sits beside him and slips the glasses on him, tucking his hair behind his ears in the process.

Myungsoo scrunches his nose. "Stay away."

"I brought you here and now you're telling me to stay away?"

"Just. Not too close." Myungsoo blinks way too many times for him to count, just so he can keep himself awake, but the pull of alcohol is too strong. He rolls flat on his stomach and looks up briefly, his glasses slipping off his nose as he turns to Woohyun with half-lidded eyes. "Wake me up in thirty minutes. Just thirty minutes — no more, no less."

Myungsoo's face falls back into the pillows even before Woohyun can say, "Got it."

(What happens next is this: Woohyun carefully taking off Myungsoo's glasses and placing it on Myungsoo's beside table; Woohyun throwing a blanket over Myungsoo's curled up figure; Woohyun lying on his side, right arm propped under his head, eyes fixed on Myungsoo; Woohyun just watching. On the twenty-ninth minute, Woohyun gives in and reaches over, running his fingers through Myungsoo's hair until the alarm he's set for Myungsoo sounds off, until Myungsoo stirs and he has to nudge Myungsoo, until he has to snap back to reality.

"Wake up, sleepyhead," he says, tugging at Myungsoo's wrist. Myungsoo only stirs and grunts and shakes his head, saying, _don't wanna_ , and Woohyun takes a deep breath, willing every ounce of self-control to course through his veins and take over him.

"Wake up now," Woohyun repeats, this time louder.

_Wake up, Nam Woohyun. Time to do your job._ )

 

Myungsoo wakes up with a ton of regret weighing down on his head and a sticky note stuck to his forehead. "Covered your ass and did the gig for you. They loved me. See? It's not that hard ;)" it says, then, in tiny text, "There's food in your fridge. Eat."

Food turns out to be breakfast in a box, something Woohyun must have had delivered or picked up from the convenience store downstairs on his way back from the gig, except the scrambled eggs are forming a smiley outline and there's a small egg heart in the corner.

Myungsoo burries his face in his hands. This hangover will plague him for the rest of the day.

His schedule is clear for the next ten hours, so he switches the router on and grabs his DS, keeping the brightness at the minimum for fear of making his headache worse. His phone buzzes — an email notification for a Youtube private message. _6v6 standard ou? my fc is 0280-9111-0220,_ it reads, and Myungsoo just shrugs, tossing his phone a few centimeters away in favor of his laptop.

_mine's in my youtube profile. pm when you're good to battle.  
\-- 5 mins?_

Predicting an onslaught of Eeveelutions and dog-looking Pokemon, Myungsoo puts together a sand team built around Tyranitar and types the challenger's friend code. After a few minutes, he gets a battle request, and he accepts the invite without much thought.

He leans back into his seat and wiggles his toes. This is the best way to nurse a headache.

 

Except it really isn't, because he loses to, "Another fucking Pikachu," Sungyeol finishes, then reaches towards the webcam to give Myungsoo a cyberpat. "You've got to step up your game. What if I make a legion of Pikachu and kill you in your sleep?"

Myungsoo hisses as a sharp pain shoots up his spine. "You can't even drag your ass to breed a Volt Tackle Pikachu. How will you be able to breed a legion?"

"I'll hire that kid who beat you. What's his name?" Sungyeol scrunches in nose just in time for the video feed to break up a little. "I can only remember 'dogs'."

" _Wooletthedogsout_ ," Myungsoo replies. He glances at the wall clock — it's twelve in the afternoon and he to meet up with Hoya to discuss another project in two hours. This headache has got to go. "Who even uses a name as stupid as that?"

"The guy you whipped your ass with—"

Myungsoo glares at the screen. "Shut up."

"He was good, by the way. Woohyun, I mean." Sungyeol's voice has dropped to a whisper and Myungsoo wonders if he should make Sungyeol repeat himself and possibly step closer to the cliff, one he has carefully distanced himself from since the day Sungyeol left to pursue medicine. He wonders, as he watches Sungyeol worry his lower lip, if it would be too late to wish that he had the tiniest bit of hope with Sungyeol.

"Who sounds better — me or him?"

Sungyeol chuckles. "Him. Sorry." Then, after a while. "Maybe on bad days, you'd stand a chance against him."

Myungsoo fakes a tear. "I'm on a losing streak."

"Hey, don't worry. You're still my number one."

Myungsoo takes a deep breath. He takes a deep breath and clenches his fists, letting his nails dig into his flesh. It's enough that he's dealing with a splitting headache caused by alcohol; he can't have this on his plate.

"Whatever. I'll go to bed. Need to sleep this thing off before my meeting with Hoya." Sungyeol sticks out his tongue at him and Myungsoo just waves him off. "Yeah, yeah, that's cute. Bye."

He promptly logs out of Skype and dives into the pillows unceremoniously, letting his face get burried in the comforter.

Headache and heartache — they make no difference to Myungsoo.

 

Myungsoo's gig at Hoya's favorite pub isn't until ten in the evening, after a new band finishes their set. It's not the first time Myungsoo's performing here, but it has been a while — he prefers bars where it's much darker and he doesn't have to worry about seeing a hundred pairs of eyes staring at him, scrutinizing him, his songs, his voice and his heart.

"Mic test. One, two, three— Okay, great. It's... nice to be here again after so long."

He recognizes a few faces, some of the people who regularly come to his gigs. More than always giving Myungsoo projects and introducing him to prospective clients, Hoya is also his promoter, to an extent. Hoya makes sure that Myungsoo's name appears on promotional posters in bright, bold letters, makes sure that the designers choose a good-enough photo of Myungsoo where he doesn't look as if he's going to kill someone at first glance.

Hoya is possibly Myungsoo's number one fan.

"I'm more comfortable with the guitar, but I thought I'd pick up the keyboard again after months of not playing." Myungsoo laughs a little and the crowd cheers. There's a group of girls nearby and they're all whispering to each other, like there's something so amusing about Myungsoo confessing that he's terribly out of practice. Myungsoo gulps hard and takes a deep breath, clenches and unclenches his fists.

He catches the sight of Hoya nodding in approval and positions his fingers on the keyboard.

Another deep breath, then he starts to play.

The first time he's ever touched a keyboard was when Woohyun brought one to his apartment. He remembers, too vividly even, the way Woohyun's fingers dance across the keys, the way Woohyun closes his eyes and tilts his head _just so_ , exposing the expanse of flesh along his neck, the way his heart constricts as Woohyun belts out notes, eyes tightly shut, beads of tears at the corner of his eyes.

He remembers Woohyun's chest pressed on his back, warm, as Woohyun teaches him how to play, remembers how, half the time, they end up on the floor instead of practicing, how Woohyun straddles him and giggles and laughs and unceremoniously presses their lips together.

He looks up from the keys and sees Woohyun, a sheepish smile on his lips as he bows a little to Hoya in what seems to be an apology. He almost chokes on his lyrics, but he's a professional; if he ever slips or screws things up, he lets showmanship take control of his body and lets his instrument-playing save him.

Woohyun's eyes lock with his and he asks, just by furrowing his eyebrows, "Why?"

Woohyun shrugs, mouths something that even Myungsoo's corrective glasses cannot decipher, smiles as Myungsoo sings the song, eyes still locked in a gaze.

Five songs after, Myungsoo leaves the stage with a grin and an insane urge to grab a bottle of beer. He bows to the audience as he gets down, making his way to Hoya.

"Beer. Now."

"Five minutes 'til Woohyun gets back," Hoya mentions as they make their way to the bar.

It only takes one big gulp for Myungsoo to form sentences upon sentences of questions in his head. "Why is he here? How did he know I was performing? Why do you guys keep trying to make _this_ work? Why?" Myungsoo's breathing is ragged by the time he finishes, and Hoya keeps his eyes fixed on his feet.

"He figured it out by himself. What you saw when he arrived— He was apologizing for always attempting to ruin your sets but—"

"But?"

"He... really wants to win you back, Myungsoo. He wants to win you back, and he wants you badly."

Even with poor lighting, Woohyun's smile glimmers. Hoya steps to his side and waves at no one in particular, then turns to the two to excuse himself. Myungsoo swallows whatever questions he has along with his beer, then turns his back on Woohyun when the other attempts at making conversation.

"I wonder when you'll stop stalking me," he says after a while, casually, not meaning to tease. He's just finished his first drunk and he's not even drunk yet, but his head is already spinning. His can feel his heart thrumming.

Woohyun presses too close. He's warm and he smells of sweat and scotch and a thousand more things Myungsoo hates. He smells like Woohyun.

"Once I win you back." Woohyun leans back and downs the rest of the scotch in his glass. "It won't be too long."

"Don't be too confident, Nam—"

"I'm just stating a fact." Woohyun's breath is hot on the back of his neck; he shivers. "So be prepared, Kim Myungsoo. Be prepared."

Myungsoo orders another beer. And another. And another.

 

"You _never_ learn."

Hoya huffs as Myungsoo clutches his shoulder hard and coughs in the opposite direction. Myungsoo looks over his shoulder — Woohyun's only a few steps behind, eyes trained on him as they have always been since the start of their journey to the train station. "I haven't had anything for dinner," Myungsoo reasons out when Hoya starts to recite his mantra on responsible drinking and not acting like a goddamn kid. "You know I don't get drunk."

"Just buzzed, yeah." Hoya rolls his eyes. Woohyun quickly grabs Myungsoo from behind when Myungsoo attempts to cross with the light still red. "You had beer and he had scotch; how come you're more buzzed than he is?"

"It's my job to look after him," Woohyun replies. He hardly sounds like he's had any alcohol; maybe it's his superpower, or maybe Myungsoo's just a reckless alcoholic. Maybe it's a skill Woohyun had developed while he was away, trying to be the perfect idol while still indulging in vices that don't involve making out with boys in the music room.

Myungsoo scoffs. So maybe he only gives half the usual amount of fucks Woohyun does when it comes to maintaining a good idol image. Maybe his parents were a bit too understanding when he said, back when he was twelve, "Umma, why do I like boys when all my other friends like girls?" Maybe he was lucky and Woohyun wasn't, and still isn't. But then he doesn't want fame and fortune; he just wants to write songs and sing.

"I'm not your job," he mumbles.

He almost jumps when Woohyun slips beside him to whisper, "Yeah. You're everything."

The rest of the trip to the station is quiet, with Hoya occasionally talking to Woohyun, making sure that the latter is sober and that he remembers how to get Myungsoo's place even with Myungsoo's drunken directions as a guide. When Hoya gets off on the third stop, he moves closer to Woohyun, doesn't even bother to keep his head from falling on Woohyun's shoulder. He's got a splitting headache and a troubled mind, and Woohyun doesn't have anything to do about it. Nothing at all.

 

When he wakes up to a sticky note stuck to his cheek, he isn't surprised, except there's no breakfast on the dining table and the only thing that's written on the note is, _10 a.m.. Wait for me. I'll be there._

Myungsoo gets a fresh change of clothes and heads to the bathroom for a shower. He smells like regret and stupidity rolled into one.

Three soft knocks on the door tell Myungsoo that Woohyun's probably too blind to not have seen the doorbell, and that Woohyun has arrived, hopefully with food. "Glad I'm not late," Woohyun says as a greeting, teeth too write when he grins. "My tutee had to do some extra problem sets and I thought we were—"

"Tutee?" Myungsoo's still shielding the rest of his flat from Woohyun, but his stomach's calling out to the food in the paper bags. "You teach?"

"Math and Music. I like M's."

Myungsoo steps to his side, eyes now fixed on the floor. Woohyun's fingers brush against his bare skin, his exposed arms, and immediately he realizes he might be giving Woohyun the wrong idea. "Just... put the food on the table," he mumbles, then quickly pulls a shirt of his head. "Although you didn't really have to buy food—"

"Have you seen the sad state of your fridge? How do you live on soda and juice?"

Woohyun moves around Myungsoo's kitchen like he's spent a lifetime living in it, like this is actually _home_. Myungsoo watches with great interest as Woohyun creates something out three eggs, an entire container of kimchi, 4 cups of cooked rice, and some other things that Myungsoo can't seem to make out, even with his glasses on. Woohyun turns around with a satisfied grin some twenty minutes after, a platter of golden kimchi rice in one hand and a plate filled with chicken fillet in the other.

"I didn't see you cook the fillet."

"Because it was already cooked when I bought it," Woohyun replies, earnest. "I just reheated it. I know you hate cold chicken."

Myungsoo laughs a little. "Didn't think you'd remember that."

"I never forget. I've never forgotten." Woohyun takes a seat in front of Myungsoo and looks at him straight in the eye. "And I never will. So I'll make you remember again."

Myungsoo fixes his eyes on empty bowl in front of him and reaches for the serving spoon. His hands are shaking.

The next thing he knows, Woohyun's holding his hand in an attempt to steady it, guiding him as he takes a scoop of the kimchi rice and pours the serving in his bowl. He doesn't flinch, but his breath hitches and his fingers become cold and he's still shaking, and his stomach is growling, and he wants to bury his face in his hands because Woohyun's laughing at him silly, like he's the most stupid thing to happen since Lord knows when.

Myungsoo bursts into laughter.

Maybe it's because there's no other way to deal with things or the fact the entire scenario truly is funny, but Myungsoo's laughter doesn't run dry, just keeps spilling from his lips like he's kept every single ounce of laughter bottled up in his chest for the longest time — twelve months, to be exact. Myungsoo counts because it matters and it helps him make sense of things. It helps him rationalize and, consequently, irrationalize everything at the end of the day.

"Thanks for the food," Myungsoo says as he walks Woohyun to door. He rests his hands on the small of Woohyun's back as he guides Woohyun out, then stops just when he reaches the frame and lets his hand fall to his side. "And the company," he slips in, voice barely above a whisper. He doesn't even bother trying to tuck the smile in and hiding it away.

"I— Anytime." Woohyun's eyes are filled with wonder and Myungsoo just wants to take it all and bottle it up and carry it around like a lucky charm. "Yeah. I'd... be happy to cook for you again."

"Don't push it," Myungsoo replies. The raised eyebrow doesn't go well with the smile pulling too hard at the corner of his lips.

Woohyun smiles, turns around, then looks over his shoulder. "I missed that smile. And the laughter," he says.

Woohyun's eyes linger, and Myungsoo tries to not get reeled in too easily, gripping the frame in an attempt to keep himself in check.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Myungsoo," Woohyun says for one last time, then leaves. Myungsoo closes the door behind him and leans back against the wall, crouching low until he can pull his knees close to his chest, until he can scream and yell and laugh some more.

 

They do see each other the following day, when Woohyun comes to another one of Myungsoo's gigs. Then the day after that, because Myungsoo can't seem to keep his alcohol in check everytime he drinks. Then the day after that, too, when Woohyun invites him to his workpalce because, "I need a guest speaker for song writing."

"Try harder, Nam. You're a better songwriter than I am. Is that the best excuse you can come up with?"

Woohyun laughs lightly. "You got me."

They see each other everyday, until Myungsoo develops a habit of feeling his forehead or his cheek when he wakes up, in search of a sticy note, until Myungsoo starts to invite Woohyun to his gigs, even those that stretch past twelve midnight and grossly affect Woohyun's being a morning person. "If I snap at my tutee, you're the one to blame," Woohyun says, laughter bubbling on his lips and he swirls the scotch in his glass. "You're ruining me, Kim Myungsoo."

"Am I?" Myungsoo has switched from beer to scotch only because Woohyun won't stop attempting to convert him, and now he regrets it because his mind fuzzy and he's only on his second glass. "Well, we're even. You ruined me, too."

"What—"

"When you left, when you left without a word—" A hiccup and another sip, then, "I thought I'd done something wrong and I kept trying to figure out what it was but I couldn't but I kept trying, anyway, because you're music and I didn't want to lose my music and—"

Woohyun's grip on Myungsoo's wrist is tight. It hurts a bit, but it's nothing Myungsoo can't handle. He's been through worse. "You're drunk, Myungsoo. Give me that glass—"

"Don't you understand? I needed you back then and you _fucking left me hanging—_ "

Myungsoo wants to say more, but Woohyun presses their lips together in a rush. Woohyun's mouth is hot and heedy and Woohyun tastes worse than scotch, and Woohyun tastes like something Myungsoo has never encountered before, and Myungsoo feels himself melting into the kiss, knees giving away. He snakes a hand up Woohyun's neck and grabs a fistful of hair, cocking his head slightly. Woohyun responds by biting a bit too hard on his lower lip, and he snarls when Woohyun takes the kiss deeper, parting his lips, licking the cavern of his mouth as he does so.

"You're not drinking scotch ever again," Woohyun says when they part, breathing heavy. Myungsoo downs the rest of the contents of the glass, anyway, and leans in close, too close that his lips graze Woohyun's ear, that it makes Woohyun shiver.

"You still like me, though."

Woohyun bucks his hips forward, grinding against Myungsoo's tenting erection. He growls. "And you obviously like me, too."

The light dims. It's the start of another set. Twenty minutes of darkness and the spotlight focused on the stage. Twenty minutes for Myungsoo to pin Woohyun on the wall and jerk Woohyun off while he humps Woohyun's leg mercilessly because it's too much of a chore to slip out of leather pants. Ten minutes of Woohyun's heavy breathing and moans and grunts muffled in the crook of Myungsoo's neck, until Woohyun somehow manages to slip a hand inside and cups his ass. A minute spent struggling to get to the bathroom and locking the door behind them, Myungsoo struggling to get out of his pants so Woohyun can finish what he has started. The remaining time is dedicated to Woohyun fingering him, stretching him out until he's pleading, "Woohyun, _please_ ," riding out his orgasm as Woohyun pumps his cock hard and fast.

The music outside hits the chorus. Myungsoo spills all over Woohyun's hand and Woohyun comes not too long after. Myungsoo doesn't know where Woohyun finds the energy, but Woohyun licks a strip along the stretch of his neck, sucks long and hard until Myungsoo hears a light pop.

The tiles are too cold for cuddling. Woohyun wraps his arms around Myungsoo's waist and says, almost as if breathing, "I love you."

The music dies down. Only the voice of the singer can be heard. Myungsoo shivers, stays silent, doesn't move, even when Woohyun withdraws himself from Myungsoo, even when Woohyun traces the length of his face and stops on his chin to take his lips in a kiss. The only things that's warm is Woohyun's body, Woohyun's lips, Woohyuns hands cupping his face, so he surrenders. It's not because he feels the same, but he can't feel his legs, and Woohyun's the closest thing he can hold onto for support. So he doesn't let go.

The percussion comes in again. Myungsoo turns around to take Woohyun in his arms and bury his face in Woohyun's hair. The song's not over. Not just yet.

 

Myungsoo declines Woohyun's call the morning after, doesn't open the door when Woohyun knocks on the door (and he knows it's Woohyun, because Woohyun knocks in a certain manner that people don't) to bring him breakfast or comfort in the form of a hug or a smile or lazy morning sex. He stays as far as possible from the door when Woohyun starts asking questions — What are you doing, what's wrong, was I too pushy last night, did I ruin _everything_ — curling up on his sofa, hugging his knees close to his chest when Woohyun stops knocking and pleading and starts singing.

Myungsoo's fingers move on their own accord, tracing the notes on an imaginary keyboard.

It's the song Myungsoo sang the first time Woohyun attented one of his gigs.

Woohyun doesn't leave for another thirty minutes. Myungsoo can taste the bitter tang of regret at the back of his tongue. It's worse than scotch and Woohyun combined, and he'll never admit it but he likes scotch — pure, not on the rocks. The way Woohyun wants it.

_hey myungsoo_  
we're okay right?  
pls reply. pls answer my calls.  
myungsoo pls stop ruining me 

_i need you._

 

An unread private message sits in Myungsoo's Youtube inbox. Two messages. Three. Three days' worth of unanswered messages and calls and Myungsoo slipping out of his apartment incognito, attending gigs and telling his contact to _please not tell Hoya, thank you very much._ He doesn't even talk to Sungyeol because Sungyeol makes everything worse, his heart included.

He wears a fedora and wraps a scarf around his neck when he takes the stage. Winter's just around the corner; the crazy get-up is permissible.

He finishes his set in an half an hour and earns a round of applause at the end. He hides the smile behind the scarf, pulling the hat down to cover his eyes, but not so much that he can't see a thing. It's a foreign place; it's one of the bars Hoya hates the most.

"Myungsoo?" someone calls from behind, and he tries not to stop in his tracks but stimulus works against him, makes him pivot his body so that he can see much clearer and reveal himself to the stranger. "I knew it. The voice was familiar." Eyes like half-moon crescents, a bad haircut, and an even more atricious attire. "Didn't think you could perform onstage and get away with your cloak of anonymity, did you?" Sunggyu.

"Hyung." It's more of a request to _please tone down your voice, hyung; you're embarassing me_ than a statement. "I'm on a secret mission."

"To hide from the world."

Myungsoo laughs a little. "That's the idea."

"Then you're stupid for going up on stage. Your singing voice gives you away."

Sunggyu makes small talk with a few people on their way to the bar, heading to the farthest corner where little to no light comes in. "This is how you go incognito," Sunggyu says, smiling, and Myungsoo wonders briefly how much alcohol Sunggyu has already had.

"I didn't think I'd be the first to find you," Sunggyu says after a while, halfway through the song, swirling the liquid in his glass — Sunggyu had asked for pure vodka earlier; Myungsoo reckons he's out to burn some angst away. "I'm the worst detective in the search party. I was actually expecting Sungyeol to find you first."

"Wait, how did you—" The bartender arrives with his scotch, and he pauses to turn to the man to mumble a sound of gratitude. "You're part of this thing? You're one of them?"

"Woohyun asked me for help." Sunggyu purses his lips, but a hint of a smile still hangs from the corner of his lips. "He said I was the last person you'd run away from, that I'll probably be able to talk some sense into you."

"I don't need someone to talk sense into me." A sip, then, "I need someone to talk me out of _feeling_."

Silence cuts through the music, cuts Sunggyu and Myungsoo from the rest of the world. "I asked Woohyun," Sunggyu begins, pausing to sip, then continues, "why he returned for you and not for me. Why I couldn't be _the one._ " Sunggyu chuckles, and Myungsoo catches a hint of bitterness in the undertone; it makes his heart constrict. "And he said it was because we were both so afraid of messing up that if he made another mistake of getting back together with me, he'd ruin me completely."

"You're ruining me," Myungsoo whispers. Woohyun's voice rings in his ears. _You're ruining me, Kim Myungsoo._

"But you— You weren't afraid. You were so sure of yourself, so comfortable in your own skin even if you're born awkward. You came out to your parents when you were still a child and you've been very transparent about your sexuality but you didn't push Woohyun even if he wasn't like that. You waited. You were too patient and too accepting. And it scared Woohyun. He was scared that one day you'd wake up and you'd realize that his dream of being the perfect idol was too much and that you'd leave. And that he'd fuck things up even more."

"He kept telling me I ruined him, that I still do. I don't understand."

"Changed, not ruined. He's so used to that word that it's fucked up his vocabulary." Sunggyu laughs a little. "You've changed him, Myungsoo. That day he went to the trading card launch? That was a week after he came out to his parents. His father was surprisingly understanding. His mother, not so much, but she did say he was welcome to spend the holidays with them."

Myungsoo keeps his eyes on the glass; he feels safer seeing Sunggyu's hands shaking from the filter, the way the glass distorts reality. "How?" Sunggyu looks up, looks at him in the eye for the first time. "How will I be sure he won't run away again?"

Sunggyu laughs. "He gave up his job in the tutoring center to sign a contract with Woolim." Sunggyu raises a finger when Myungsoo furrows his eyebrows. "The day you stopped answering his calls, he was supposed to let you know."

"He let me kiss him in public the night before—"

"And he introduced you to his students, Myungsoo. That... that means a lot. Even I didn't get to experience that."

"Hyung, I—"

Sunggyu puts an arm around his shoulder to pull him close, possibly to stop him from shaking. Sunggyu is warm, but not in the way that Woohyun is. They are an awkward fit. Myungsoo takes a deep breath, the image of Woohyun curling his fingers around Myungsoo's nape, pulling him close, biting his lower lip before pressing his lips on Myungsoo's own. And then there would be nothing but warmth and Woohyun's wet lips and Woohyun's fingers dancing on his skin.

"And now I'm the one running away." Myungsoo laughs, chokes on his own spit. "I ruined things."

"I am going to ban that fucking word—" Sunggyu's laughing, too. "—and create a much better term for screwing up and changing for the good—"

Myungsoo orders another glass of scotch for himself, some more vodka for Sunggyu. He drinks until the last drop leaves the glass and doesn't order another, and he takes Sunggyu home when Sunggyu's already had too much to drink. It's cold out, and for the first time in months he wonders how Woohyun survived all those late nights dragging him halfway across town just to tuck him in bed.

He crosses his arms in front of his chest and shivers. Alcohol can only provide so much warmth.

When he reaches his apartment, he lays flat on his back, eyes fixed on the ceiling, imagines Woohyun beside him, fussing over his messy hair, wiping his face with a wet towel, mumbling a string of curses about how Myungsoo has little control over his alcohol intake and being too young and wild and free. About Myungsoo being stupid and him being even more pathetic.

Myungsoo rolls over, lying on his stomach, and buries his face in the comforters. Nothing can drown out the sound of Woohyun's voice.

 

iv. Run

Three days, Myungsoo tells himself — it takes three days for him to recalibrate, even less if he tries really hard, but he'll give himseslf three days to make things right. He starts by freeing up his mornings, getting back into the groove of playing Pokemon. He picked up Pokemon Y three weeks back, after finishing X, but he had been terribly busy with Woohyun dragging him around. It's the first time in a long time that he's seeing sunlight at eight in the morning. Woohyun usually wakes him up at ten.

Myungsoo turns on the router, hops on Skype to let Sungyeol know that he's alive, and sees a few battle requests in his Youtube inbox. He spots a familiar handle — the guy with the stupid name, _Wooletthedogsout_. "hope you could add my other fc, need it for my friend safari," the message reads, and Myungsoo makes a mental note to do so once he gets to the third gym. It shouldn't take too long.

"FYI, I've just started on X," Sungyeol says, voice thick with drowsiness. Myungsoo laughs a little. "I didn't want to take advantage of your stupidity."

Myungsoo offers a wry smile in reply. "Thanks. That's really sweet of you. Race you to the third gym before noon?"

"Fuck."

It's a bit liberating, Myungsoo thinks, to not be running around, following Woohyun's twisted concept of a 'schedule' that mostly involves taking long walks along Hongdae and building an itinerary for the next hour around the first interesting store they spot. Liberating but nowhere near as fun, yes, but Myungsoo needs to fix himself before facing Woohyun again. It's not fair for him to offer shattered pieces of himself when Woohyun's offering him nothing but the best.

"Second gym conquered," he says out loud, pumping his fist in the air slowly, just like before. For a moment, he feels a familiar warmth enveloping his fist, a warm hand guiding his, sharing the victory with him. He takes a deep breath, tucks the feeling somewhere inside him where it won't hurt as much but will sting, so that he doesn't forget.

Myungsoo doesn't know how they end up with this discussion, but somewhere along the way, while Sungyeol ploughs through the horror that is Lumiose City and while Myungsoo wades his way to Shalour City, they talk about Woohyun, why he ran away a year ago, why Myungsoo even thought of hiding. "He said something that night," Myungsoo begins. He taps the A button furiously as he goes through the new Nurse Joy's dialogue. "Caught me off-guard. I didn't think he was _that_ serious."

Sungyeol scoffs. "He fucked you senseless in a public place, Myungsoo. How could you think he wasn't?"

The music for Pokemon healing stings his ears a little. "We do stupid things sometimes, you know, when we're scared."

Sungyeol looks up from his DS, looks at Myungsoo in the eye. "Scared? The kid who came out to his parents at such an early age, scared? Man, Woohyun has _changed_ you. I'm kinda digging this whole thing."

_Changed, not ruined._ Sunggyu's voice rings in Myungsoo's ears. Courage is the acceptance of fear. "And I kinda had a thing for you before. _Kinda._ "

A small smile surfaces on Sungyeol's lips. "Yeah, I know. I've known for a while. That's why I like that Woohyun guy for you."

"Why?"

"I was too scared to shoot you down if you decided to come up to me with a confession. He saved you from that, saved you from me."

Myungsoo saves his game. "Lee Sungyeol, _scared?_ "

Sungyeol chuckles. "More than you'd think."

Myungsoo hits the third gym at half past eleven, earns a Mega Ring two tries into defeating Korrina's Mega Lucario. Sungyeol's still stuck in Lumiose, visiting shops and busting his wallet trying to up his popularity and glamour level, and Myungsoo has progressed to the road to the fourth gym.

Myungsoo responds to his Youtube inquiries with his friend code for Pokemon X, posts it on his profile, and level grinds for the upcoming gym until a trade request pops up. _Wooletthedogsout wants to trade_ , it says, and he just chuckles, ignores Sungyeol poking fun at his weird way of chuckling, and accepts the trade request. He has a couple of good-natured Fennekins in his box; it's the best time to put them to good use.

He trades away a Mild Fennekin and beams at the Squirtle he receives. He contemplates on letting go of his Azumarill in favor of his favorite starter, but his stomach starts to complain, grumbling to remind him that it's already past twelve in the afternoon and that he only has three hours to fix himself before he tackles a midshift gig and an evening gig after that.

He saves his game, doesn't check the Squirtle's nature, and turns off the device.

 

The first thing Hoya does when he sees Myungsoo onstage is to mouth _I'm going to fucking kill you_.

Myungsoo makes his way through the crowd when he finishes his set, bowing occasionally to the people giving him praise for a great performance. Hoya's two feet and an apology away, and Myungsoo isn't liking the look on Hoya's face.

"We looked _everywhere_ for you."

"Not everywhere, obviously," he retorts, and quickly regrets it when Hoya glares at him. "I'm sorry. I just... had to sort out my shit."

A hand comes to rest on his shoulder. Myungsoo turns around and sighs in relief when he sees Dongwoo, more welcoming with a soft smile on his lips. "I hope you were able to fix your shit. He couldn't sleep peacefully for days. He was—"

"Worried sick and mad," Hoya finishes. He's frowning, but something at the corner of his lips tells Myungsoo that he's ready to envelop Myungsoo in a hug, a bone-crushing one, in ten counts. "Reckless. Stupid. Why are we friends again?"

"Because you needed a Togepi with three perfect IVs back in 2010 and I was the only one who could give you that?"

Hoya laughs, circles an arm around Myungsoo's shoulder to pull him close and ruffle his hair. "More alcohol, less talking. Come on."

Myungsoo sticks to scotch and lays off of other drinks — "Especially vodka, because vodka tastes a lot like regret and Sunggyu-hyung," he reasons out when Hoya and Dongwoo ask — counts the number of glasses he's already had and stops when he feels his body become warm and his vision go blurry.

"Five's my quota."

"Since when did you have a quota?"

Myungsoo smiles a bit. It can be the alcohol or the music or the night, in general, loosening his muscles and easing the stress. It can be the thought of the worried look on Woohyun's face that's keeping him from asking for a sixth glass. It can be the fact that it's already one in the morning and that he only has one day left to not fuck things up before he takes a risk to screw up his life again.

"Since Woohyun happened," he says after a while, all in one breath.

Dongwoo hides his grin behind his glass, promptly forgetting that the glass is trasparent.

The three of them crash in Myungsoo's apartment, and Myungsoo lets the two occupy his bed, making sure that Dongwoo makes use of Hoya as a bolster. The couch is comfortable enough for one person; if Woohyun can make sleeping on it possible a liter of alcohol and hours of dancing after, then it shouldn't too hard.

Myungsoo closes his eyes, thinks of sunshine and bright mornings and fancy scrambled eggs. He thinks of not nursing a hangover when he wakes up. He thinks of Woohyun.

In three minutes, he drifts off to a peaceful slumber.

 

He submits an application in the tutoring center Woohyun used to work for the following day. He doesn't do it on a whim — the thought has been clawing at the back of his mind for quite some time already and since most of his event coverages are in the morning, he figures he can squeeze in some time to teach. The music class, albeit a poor excuse from Woohyun to see him again, went extremely well, and the students were really pleased, so much so that the students were willing to stay for a couple more minutes to ask questions. It's not Myungsoo's dream job, but it's career advancement. Anything that brings him one step closer to his dream of becoming a songwriter and composer is always welcome.

"So you're planning to teach, huh?" Sunggyu says after taking a sip of his coffee. Myungsoo shifts in his seat as he nods, a bit uncomfortable to be talking to Sunggyu with the sun still up. "You didn't seem the type."

"I'm unpredictable."

Sunggyu almost spills his coffee all over the table. The sunset casts a warm glow on the tablecloth. "Obviously."

They take the conversation all the way to Hongdae. Myungsoo's doing a gig in one of the less crowded bars there. "Underground," Sunggyu calls it, but Hoya prefers to describe it as, "Dingy. Shady. Not my style."

"There's a reason why I'm the one performing here."

Hoya snorts. "Sometimes I wonder why I let you do the things you do."

He ends earlier than expected. He's used to late-night schedules, but the bar turns into a huge dance floor past ten in the evening and there's no room for an acoustic performance anymore. Hoya manages to secure a table in the far corner of the bar, and Sunggyu quickly takes the farthest seat. Dongwoo arrives with a tray laden with tequilla shots and a few bottles of beer.

"Fortune favors the bold!" Dongwoo screams before taking a shot, and promptly drops beside Hoya unceremoniously, arms draped around Hoya's shoulders.

Myungsoo slips away for a while, when the alcohol gets to him and messes up with his brain and the music gets too loud. Air in Hongdae in the evening always seems to clear his mind, so he waves at the bouncer in the entrance, flashes the smile he usually wears just before he gets off the stage, and sits on the sidewalk. He looks around him; he blends pretty well with the crowd.

He takes a deep breath, takes in a lungful of air, and closes his eyes.

"Myung... soo?"

Myungsoo furrows his eyebrows, but doesn't open his eyes until he hears his name a second time, this time much clearer.

"Myungsoo."

Slowly, he opens his eyes. Then, he takes another deep breath.

It's half past eleven in the evening. There Woohyun is, standing in front of him, donning leather jeans and a leather jacket and something that makes his hair stick in several different directions. His shirt is threadbare and the scarf around his neck isn't much of a help. Myungsoo gulps, swallowing the urge to take off his own jacket and to throw it over Woohyun's shoudlers in an attempt to keep Woohyun warm.

It's half past eleven in the evening. It's only day number two. He can't cheat.

"Hey," he says when he can finally feel his lips again. He keeps his eyes locked on Woohyun's, like if he blinks Woohyun will disappear or run away again. He sits on his hands to keep himself warm and to keep himself from snaking his arms around Woohyun's waist. "It's been a while."

"Five days. Six in thirty minutes," Woohyun replies. He points at the space beside Myungsoo. "Can I?"

Myungsoo moves to his side just a bit. "Yeah. Sure."

The silence is unnerving. Myungsoo loves quiet places and sharing quiet time with people who matter, but there's something screaming at the back of his mind, at the pit of his stomach. Woohyun's steady humming and breathing offer no consolation, either, and Woohyun just drums his fingers on the small space separating them, a whole world of indifference.

"They say it takes three days—" Woohyun coughs, then wraps the loose part of his scarf around his neck before continuing, "Three days for one's world to go back to normal. To recalibrate."

"Mhmm."

11:56 p.m. "It's been five days, Myungsoo."

"Maybe I live in a different planet — Mars, Venus, Mercury."

Woohyun's fingers inch closer. Myungsoo clenches his fists.

"And it's going to be six days in—"

"Four minutes. Three. Sometimes it takes longer than the usual when you face fear for the first time."

Woohyun turns to him and stares — stares for the next three minutes, gaze unwavering through the cold, index finger tapping lightly, just a centimeter away from Myungsoo's hand. Myungsoo keeps his eyes on the floor, willing himself to focus on anything but Woohyun, but Woohyun's still humming, this time a different song, but a song too familiar for Myungsoo not to be able to identify.

11:59 p.m. "Are you ready, Myungsoo?"

Myungsoo glances at his watch. Five, four, three, two—

He grabs Woohyun's hand and squeezes it tight. Woohyun doesn't move, doesn't shiver despite the people around them, doesn't flinch. Myungsoo rests his free hand on Woohyun's shoulder and leans in until his lips hover Woohyun's, until he can feel Woohyun's breath on his skin. "Yes, I'm ready. I'm ready to face my fears. I'm ready to face defeat."

Myungsoo presses his lips on Woohyun's. He feels a surge of warmth coursing through his veins, his fingertips, the tips of his toes. He feels Woohyun's hand snaking up the back of his neck to grab a fistful of hair, to deepen the kiss. He feels Woohyun's heart beating wildly in his chest when he presses too close.

He feels the world spinning. He feels himself plummeting to the ground.

The sound of Woohyun's heavy breathing and light laughter fills his ears when they part. He feels like singing.

He likes it.

 

v. Save

"So you two are a thing now?" is Sungyeol's first question when the music video of the duet — re-recorded and remastered — gets posted on Youtube. Woohyun hosts the actual video on his channel, while Myungsoo has the outtakes which are mostly of Woohyun getting one line wrong at least five times in his channel.

"Sorry, he can be pretty dumb sometimes," comes Sungjong's voice, flat and seemingly not interested. He's the first to comment on the music video with a plethora of smileys, though. "Should we kick him out of Oovoo?"

"Too much work. It took him an hour to get on." Hoya gestures at Dongwoo to move closer. "But seriously, who even hosts an official music video launch online?"

Myungsoo shrugs and hooks an arm around Woohyun's waist just to make Sungyeol squirm and elicit laughter from Sungjong. Woohyun leans back and moves close enough for their lips to touch briefly.

"Cut, cut! Pornography! I did not sign up for this!"

Myungsoo leans in so that their noses bump. Woohyun comes in too hard and too fast. They collide. A beautiful mess.

 

vi. Post-game

"Who in his right mind would even use the name _Wooletthedogsout?_

"The same amazing guy who gave you _DEM CANNONS 02!!!_ and got away with it without you knowing. For more than a week."

" _Fuck._ "

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. In the world of Pokemon battling, Stunfisk is often considered a joke, much like how Magikarp, Bidoof, Rattata, and Feebas are frowned upon.  
> 2\. Why did Electivire's speed go up when it got hit by Discharge? That's because Elecivire has the ability Motor Drive that lets Pokemon, when hit with an electric-type move, get a +1 in the speed stat.  
> 3\. Haydunn is a real online battler! He specializes in using Pokemon in the Underused (UU) tier.  
> 4\. IVs are the part of a Pokemon's DNA, but can be "modified" through breeding. It's pretty hardcore.  
> 5\. Dazzling Gleam is a fairy-type move than can be learned via TM.  
> 6\. The VGCs — Pokemon Video Game Championships — is a series of online Pokemon battles done locally and worldwide.  
> 7\. What exactly happened between Sunggyu and Woohyun? Well, Myungsoo said it — they used to be fuck buddies, but Sunggyu always felt something more.  
> 8\. Hoya is the owner of a PR/events agency, and Woohyun is one of his freelance hosts. Woohyun also does gigs from time to time, but not as much as Myungsoo does. Woohyun doesn't exactly frequent the bars Myungsoo usually sings at.  
> 9\. YES, Myungsoo had a thing for Sungyeol for the longest time, but decided to just let it go since it won't work out anyway.  
> 10\. Sungyeol probably would have reciprocated eventually if Myungsoo confessed to him.  
> 11\. This fic is hella long.


End file.
